


something's scratching it's way out.

by teenagefgt



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: M/M, Percico - Freeform, but its a good kind of haunting, i dont know, i really dont know what this is, if it doesnt drive him insane, nico's not used to being haunted, seriously, unrequited percico
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:22:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2106123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenagefgt/pseuds/teenagefgt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nico di Angelo was serious about never coming back. He made a new life for himself, ran until he forgot. He never stopped running (he couldn't run fast enough.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	something's scratching it's way out.

_The grip on his neck was tight. (can he even see right now?)_

_He could hear his own lungs crumpling up into nothing. (air is such a precious substance.)_

_He clawed at the fingers around his throat but they didn't move. He kicked at the wall behind his body, but it only chipped off the paint. He grabbed on to the wrists of his attacker and he can feel his eyes water._

_There's a burning feeling in his chest and a throbbing in his head._

_He keeps trying to drag in air, in a hopeless attempt to rid his lungs of the burning._

_(the burning stopped already)_

Nico sat up in bed fast, coated in a cold sweat and breath coming in shallow gasps.

His room was dark and cold and breezy and it took a moment but his eyes eventually adjusted. Silhouettes formed and the moonlight streaming through his open window was almost to bright.

"Fuck." Nico mumbled and peeled back his covers.

In the far corner of his room was a rocking chair that he nearly forgot about, but with the breeze coming through his window, it started to rock the chair. The haunting squeaks of the old wooden chair could be heard throughout the entire apartment.

He grabbed his sword off of the floor as he stood up and pointed it towards the rocking chair. The squeaks were driving him insane. ( _what squeaks_?)

The rocking chair wasn't there anymore.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." mumbled Nico as he threw his sword across the room.

It's three am and Nico hates it when this happens. Especially now because  _he_  isn't there to calm him down when he wakes up like that. Instead, he threw on a pair of pants and wandered into the kitchen of his shoebox apartment, turning on the kettle.

It's not like it's new, this dream. He's had it multiple times before. Never gets any less terrifying though.

"Nico?" it was a familiar voice, one he loved to listen too.

With a harsh shake of his head, Nico sucked in a breath and refused to reply to the voice. He walked over to the window, slid it open and pulled off the screen, dropping it on the floor beside the window. It was thundering out, the sky a mixture of dull grey and horrific clouds. He could smell the oncoming storm, feel the chill of it in the piercing wind.

There's steam rising from the kettle at this point, and he pulled down a cup and threw a tea bag into it and two tea spoons of sugar. The steam burned up his nose and his cheeks flushed pink and someone behind him sighed.

"Stop it!" Nico shouted, shoulders tensing and the kettle nearly slipped from his fingers.

When he turned around, no one was there.

There was another re-occurring dream he always had. It started once or twice a month around the age of 9. He can barely remember it whenever he wakes up. All he knows is that fear is always threaded into his nerves because of it. (that's not all he knows though.)

Right at that moment was when a black skeletal gryphon with feathers made of cold smoke and blood red eyes came swooping through Nico's large window. It landed softly in the kitchen and it's black smoke rolled off it's bony wings and onto the wooden floors. The temperature in the apartment dropped drastically.

Clamped within it's sleak beak, the gryphon held a couple cards. Nico reluctantly took them from the creature, smoothing his palm down the spine and whispering, "Thank you, Lieto."

When he looked at the cards, his jaw clenched.

They both read the same thing- pathetic, vague birthday wishes. Because people are uncreative.

He almost forgot it was his 22nd birthday. Almost. Why did Hazel and Reyna have to remind him?

They probably expected these cards to get to him later then they did. He did wander quite far from New York. Personally, he didn't even think he'd get any cards. He thought everyone forgot about him and his birthday. Gods know he'd be thankful to forget about his birthday.

After throwing out the cards, Nico sat and drank his tea while the rain started to fall. The window stayed open during the storm and he waited for the sun to rise.

~~~

It was a quarter after 6 when Nico decided it was late enough in the day and he's had to much tea. A quick stop by the bathroom on his way to his bedroom, and Nico is changed and really wanting to leave his shoebox. He threw on his shoes and grabbed his keys and closing his creaky door behind him.

He found himself at a coffee shop down town, ordering another cup of tea and he mentally slapped himself. As if he needed more tea.

At 6:30 am, the coffee shop was dead and the girl behind the counter looked as tired as you can get. He felt a bit bad for her, because she seemed really young and she probably wasn't used to being awake this early.

There was a hollow ding, and Nico turned toward the door, shocked that someone else is awake and active this early.

But the man walking through the door has a familiar face, and Nico refrained from letting his jaw drop.

Quickly, he turned toward the counter and watched the girl prepare his tea. The man stepped into line behind him, and the smell of his presence trickled up his nose. Nico didn't want to admit it, but that was a familiar smell and he enjoyed it. However, he really hoped the man didn't catch a look at his face, or recognize him. ( _that's a lie._ )

"So, this is how far you ran away, then?" The man said casually and  _damn_ , that's a really familiar voice.

"It didn't seem to work, though." Nico snapped.

"It did, to an extent. I'm surprised I found you at all"

"Why look for me now? You didn't try looking for me when I was ten."

There was a pressure on his arm and he thought it was the man , but when he looked down, there was no hand. He heard a sigh, a whisper, but it was far to faint to belong to the one behind him. Letting out a ragged sigh, Nico stuck his hand up the sleeve of his jacket and scratched at his arm harshly, till the skin was raw red.

"Even the Gods were worried. Hades had Olympus in a uproar. No minor or demi god could figure out how you could hide yourself from the Olympians."

Nico's breath stopped and the girl at the counter handed him his tea; "Did you say Olympus? As in, Greek Mythology?" She calmly asked, tilting her head to the side.

With no hesitation, the man behind him said, "No. They're code names. Don't worry about it."

She eyed him up, and dropped the topic.

Nico moved out of the way, sitting at a table and kept his eyes trained on his coffee, half hoping to be left alone. The other half of him wanted to be talked to, to be dragged back to Camp and forced to be friends with everyone. He was lonely, but he won't admit it.

After ordering and waiting for his coffee in the tense room, the other man sat at the same table as Nico. He crossed his long legs and slung his arm across the back of the chair, one hand gripped tightly around his coffee sitting on the table.

"Did I say you could sit here?" drawled Nico.

"Nah, but I will anyway." the man smiled innocently at him. And that smile didn't falter.

Nico sighed, and his eyes hurt and his fingers trembled. Finally, he let himself look up at the man sitting in front of him, and he's not sure if he regrets it or not.

Bright green eyes stared at him intently, causing him to squirm under the gaze. It wasn't a mad or hateful gaze, it was warm, forgiving, friendly. But intense.  Curly black hair still sat atop his head, his bangs styled up to keep them out of his eyes. His jaw was firm and set, covered in a light stubble. The skin stretched across his bones was even tanner then what Nico remembers and he can't help but envy how healthy he looks.

"So, how's everything been since the war?" asked Nico timidly.

With a sigh, and a sip of his coffee, this man replied, "We fixed everything the war caused 8 years ago, Nico."

"Ah." Nico's eyes shifted uncomfortably and his shoulders slouched a bit, "I see."

Cutting right to the chase, the man's smile melted away and he leaned forward, uncrossing his legs, "Why did you run off to England, Nico?"

"I said that I would leave and not come back. I told Jason that." 

Slamming a fist down on the table, the coffee and tea rattled, spilling over the rims of the cups and burning Nico's hand. The two liquids slowly formed a puddle on the table and Nico watched it happen intently, anything to avoid the sharp gaze of hurt from the other man as he said, "But you didn't tell me."

"Why did I have too?"

He didn't have to look up to know that there was confusion and betrayal all over the other mans face, "Nico, it's me." he said softly. Nico watched as his fingers tightened around his coffee cup and then dropped limply to the table.

"You don't understand." Nico breathed and a choked laugh slipped past his lips. His voice was gentle, strained and his eyes were unfocused on the man's fingers, "I - I was in love with a beautiful boy a long time ago. He really messed me up, without really... Without meaning too. I don't hate him for it. I don't have a bone in my body capable of hating him, no matter what. I ran off to England, because I wanted to keep running until I forgot who he was. Eventually, I settled here and _drank_ until I forgot who he was. The problem was, I forgot who I was first."

The man leaned back in his chair, curiousity rolling off him in waves so much like the ocean he could command. He looked like he wanted to say something, some words of comfort, but Nico would have none of it. He continued his small story, making sure he received no pity because he didn't deserve pity- he didn't _want_ pity. Let alone from Percy Jackson.

"I met a guy here when I was 18. I fell in love with him to best of my abilities, but it was no use because no matter what I did, this boy I ran away from changed my perspective on love. But, I was happy. For the first time in a long time, I was really happy. That won't change."

Nico stopped there. He sipped from his tea quietly, avoiding the critical gaze of Percy Jackson and tapping his foot. There was a tense air about that was hard to breathe in, but he was trying his hardest to keep his trouble breathing to himself. Due to Percy's lifted eyebrow, he was probably failing.

"You won't come back then, will you?" Asked Percy, gently, "You won't come home?"

Percy didn't need to know that within four years, England became his home because of Evan Valerius. Then ripped away from him because of Evan Valerius. Percy didn't need to know about Evan Valerius.

"This - this is my home." he replied, voice cracking. He bit his cheek to refrain from cringing.

A cold breeze whispered against Nico's cheek and a familiar accent danced into his ears, whispering about him always having a home here. Instantly, Nico's shoulder's tensed up and he swallowed thickly. Percy's eyebrows scrunched together and he asked if Nico was okay, but Nico couldn't really hear him any more because his ears were full of that accent, that deep thick accent and he hates himself so much for never being able to forget that voice. He supposes he would've hated himself if he did forget that voice, instead. ( _he just wants everything to stop_ )

Nico shook his head sharply and gripped his paper cup to the point of crushing it and spilling his green tea everywhere.

Nodding slowly and eyeing the spilt tea, Percy stood up. Nico barely registered it before the words we're spilling from his mouth, "It's always been you."

He felt a tight cold grip around his neck, and his fingers scrambled to peel it off, but nothing was there. Venomous words of betrayal were swirling around his mind and he couldn't breathe properly.

Percy bit his lip and left the coffee shop swiftly, with a promise to keep in touch that went unheard.

Nico felt like he was closing in on himself, cold hand pressed to his chest and breaths coming in short gasps. The young girl made him another cup of tea and asked him if he was going to be okay, he looked like he was going to pass out.

9 years wasn't enough to forget about Percy Jackson.

1 year wasn't enough to forgive himself for Evan Valerius.

"I'll be fine."

( _no, you won't_ )

**Author's Note:**

> I tried a different style of writing and it was vague, yes, but I wanted it vague to leave it to the imagination a little. But yes, it was implied that Evan died on Nico's 21st birthday and Nico blamed himself. kbye


End file.
